Mary Sue Redeemed
by SarynSylvani
Summary: When a mysterious new student arrives at Hogwarts, Harry and Draco are forced to revise many of their conceptions of the world and each other. Harry/OC, Draco/OC, Harry/Draco/OC, Harry/Draco (Post GoF)
1. Chapter 1

Chapter one

~  
 _I think it's perfectly clear  
We're in the wrong band;  
Ginger is always sincere  
Just not to one man_

The infirmary was beginning to feel like Harry's second home. As Madame Pomfrey guided the floating gurney on which he lay toward the familiar cot-lined hall, he had a wry thought that perhaps he should move his books and things permanently to the bedside table of the third cot on the right to save Ron the trouble of fetching them. Ron, by way of making light of his frequent hospitalization, had kidded Harry that he must fancy Madame Pomfrey. Harry shuddered at the prospect, but even if it were the case, the feeling seemed hardly mutual.

"Mr. Potter," she declared, "You have to be one of _the_ most accident prone young men I have _ever_ seen." And considering how often she must see Neville, Harry thought that was saying something.

Depositing him on his usual bed, Pomfrey began her examination.  
"Now let's have a look." She said, yanking roughly at Harry's shirt. He winced and forced himself to swallow a yelp of pain.

"In the name of Merlin!"

Beneath Harry's scarlet Quidditch robes his ribs and entire left side were beginning to turn several nasty shades of purple.

"And _how_ exactly did this happen?"

"Bludger," Harry said through gritted teeth. "It got away from Angelina as she was trying to put them away, so I didn't exactly expect it."

She clucked her tongue in disapproval as she moved to gather her wand and, no doubt, several different bottles of foul tasting medicine. "Really," she said shaking her head, "I can't believe they condone, much less _encourage_ , you children to play such a dangerous game. Well, you have a couple of broken ribs, easy enough to mend. But Merlin knows what else has been bruised or ruptured." Then, with no great attempt at gentleness she began administering Harry's treatment.

To distract himself from this discomfort, Harry looked about him at the rest of the infirmary. He hadn't been there since the end of last year...but then, school had only started again about a month ago. As he had expected, nothing much had changed. The same old paintings of nurses and harried doctors hung on the walls. One painting of a very sweet looking old nurse, Harry's favorite, gave him a little wink and a shake of the head as if to say "here already?" Harry grinned...and then winced, as Pomfrey seemed think he had nothing to smile about and had prodded him especially hard. He sighed, a bit irritated, and resumed his diversion. He swept his gaze down the familiar line of neat beds, when he eyes came to rest on something he had failed to notice when he arrived. The last bed across from him on the right was occupied. But all Harry could discern of the patient was a mass of red hair. Not red like Ron's, but darker, like the color of drying blood. Curious...Who was this girl? Even if she was a first year, surely he couldn't have missed such a striking mane at the sorting ceremony, no matter how little attention he now paid to it. Harry's ribcage was momentarily forgotten as he studied the girl, or rather, her hair which lay in thick, immaculate waves like deep crimson snakes arrayed across her pillow. The effect was as unsettling as it was beautiful. Then, slowly, they shifted and he could discern from beneath them two dark but sparkling eyes peering curiously at him. Her gaze was steady, but not malevolent, and so Harry in turn felt bold enough, or rather _compelled_ , to sustain the link...Until.

"Mr. Potter!" Harry was pulled from his reverie by a very exasperated Madame Pomfrey.

"Excuse me?" He said dazedly.

"Are you _quite_ sure that bludger did not also make contact with your head, Mr. Potter?" She gave him a disgruntled look and Harry tried his best to appear apologetic. With an accepting 'Hmph' she repeated herself.

"I said I've done what I can. But in case you are bleeding in places that cannot be seen, I'd like you to remain here for a few hours where I can keep an eye on you." Then she unceremoniously threw a blanket across him and left, muttering something under her breath about bludgers and broomsticks.

Harry looked after her until the click of her boot-heel faded entirely, and then he turned his attention back to his temporary roommate. He found her still staring at him. But when their eyes met again, she coyly turned her head.

Although he was sure his nurse would have a fit if she caught him up and about, Harry's curiosity got the better of him. Not that he didn't mull over the decision for a whole thirty seconds. With a sharp, determined breath he rolled from his bed and made his way slowly and painfully down the hall. And as he took a seat on the next to the last bed he wondered how best to say hello.

The girl looked over her shoulder at him but didn't turn, speaking from the midst of all that bloody hair.

"I always thought the best way to say hello was to do just that."

Harry started. Had he spoken? Now she did sit up and turn to him. All at once Harry's confusion was disregarded, for it seemed the bed and floor beneath him had abruptly disappeared and the only thing he had to orient himself were those two large brown eyes. Though he was sure he'd never seen her before, this was no gangly first year. She had to be at least Harry's own age.

"And," Harry thought as he felt his eyes involuntary widen, "She is quite, quite lovely." No. Somehow lovely didn't seem to be the right word...She was, fittingly...bewitching. Just then she blushed, adding the slightest tint to her porcelain cheeks, and broke into a small, sweet smile. Harry officially turned to goo...then realized he must be, unabashedly, staring.

"H-hello." He stuttered.

She smiled more broadly. "Hello." Her voice was clear and silvery. It sent the sweetest shiver running down Harry's spine.

"I'm Harry."

"It's nice to meet you, Harry."

Hmm...She's an American? How curious.

"I'm Saryn."

"Saryn." Harry repeated dreamily. "That's a pretty name."

"Thank you," she said, giggling at his smitten expression. She could have been named Alberta and he would have said the same. "I've always preferred it. But my mother used to call me Sue." She seemed suddenly sad. "I suppose Saryn was too exotic for everyday use."

Harry didn't respond to this, but fixed his gaze on her glittering eyes again. They were large and round, slanted slightly, almost catty; and they seemed to absorb the red of her hair, turning them a dark auburn. Deciding Harry wasn't about to resume the conversation any time soon, she spoke.

"The nurse, Madame Pomfrey is it? She doesn't seem too happy with you."

Harry woke from his trance and shrugged. "I think she thinks I'm a masochist."

"Are you?" She asked, her eyebrows raised. Now it was Harry's turn to blush.

"Oh no, just unfortunate."

She looked down at the hand Harry held clutched at his injured side. Boldly, rather like a curious child, she reached out and lifted his shirt to look; although she did so considerably more delicately than had Madame Pomfrey.

"Gracious!" She said studying the bruise. "That looks very painful. Are you alright?"

"Oh yeah," He said trying to sound stoic. "These things are pretty standard in Quidditch I guess."

She dropped his shirt and gave him a quizzical look. "Quidditch? Oh yes, I've heard about that. It's a kind of sport isn't

"You've never seen Quidditch?" He began to ask, but she cut him short.

"From what my aunt tells me it sounds exciting...but dangerous, what with the budgers..."

"Bludgers." Harry corrected.

"...And those fast broomsticks." She went on without missing a beat. "Do you get hurt often?"

Harry wasn't sure how to answer. How often was often? "Well..."

"You seem to have a rather mean scar on your forehead. Was that from a bludger as well?"

"My scar?" Harry asked giving her a blank look. It took a moment to register in Harry's brain...but this girl really had no idea who he was...or that who he was was of any special significance. That realization somehow made him feel considerably more comfortable with her. That is, until he remembered how he _did_ receive his scar.

"No," He said, not really wanting to explain it all just then. " I didn't get it from a bludger." She eyed him curiously, and then intuitively changed the subject.

"I don't mean to ask so many questions. This is all just so new to me."

As Harry drove from his mind the many unpleasant memories evoked by her innocent question, he realized again how fascinated he was with her.

"So, you don't know anything about the wizarding world?"

She looked away shyly and shook her head, "Not much."

"But surely they have Wizard schools in America."

"Oh yes, no doubt they do. But my parents would never let me attend." Again, her voice dropped at the mention of her parents and Harry sensed the subject was painful for her. Why? he wondered. Could it be, perhaps...that she was orphaned like he was? Almost in answer to that thought she continued.

"After they died, I came to live with my aunt here in England. She's a witch, and of course doesn't begrudge my...abilities. So she thought it would be a good idea that I came here and tried to catch up on my education. "

"How _old_ are you?" Harry asked before he could help himself and hoped it didn't come off as rudely as he thought it had.

She didn't seem to register any offense. "Sixteen," she answered dejectedly. "I'm so dreadfully behind. I've been taking these lessons called...Kwikspell I think it is." Harry gave an inward smile remembering his fortunate discovery in Filch's office his second year.

"But my aunt thought I should take proper classes, as there's only so much you can learn from a book."

 _Don't let Hermione hear you say that..._

"Did you say something, Harry?" Puzzled, Harry shook his head.

"Oh...well, we were sorting things out in Professor Dumbledore's Office when..." she stopped suddenly and Harry gave her a questioning look.

"...When I was struck by a headache." She finished in a tone that was a little too deliberate.

Harry decided not to ask. "I'm sure you'll love it here," He said. "My friend Hermione is really smart. I'll bet you anything she wouldn't mind tutoring you."

Saryn's face lit up immediately. "Really?"

"Sure. And besides, if she's busy teaching you, maybe she'll lay off Ron and me about doing our homework." he added with a smile. A smile she returned. And once again Harry felt himself being drawn into those dark eyes. There was just something about them, an expression that, for all their naivety, seemed so...knowing.

"Mr. Potter!" Madame Pomfrey's voice echoed sharply off the infirmary walls. Harry must have jumped at least a foot, causing his side to veritably explode with pain. The nurse was making her way briskly and angrily towards her charge.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Oh boy, here we go," he whispered to Saryn who bit both her lips to repress a giggle.

"Just what do you think you're doing out of bed?" She scolded shrilly. "Don't you _want_ to mend?"

Like a chastised dog, Harry made to rise and return to his own bed.

"No, no. No sense in making it worse by moving you again. Just lie down where you are."

Harry couldn't believe his luck. He was suddenly thrilled at the prospect of being allowed to bed down so close to his new acquaintance, as there were a hundred little curiosities he was dying to voice. However, his elation was short-lived.

"Yes, here will do, for I think Miss Sylvany is looking much better."

Madame Pomfrey's expression softened instantly as she addressed Saryn. "And how are you feeling now, my dear?"

"Oh much better, ma'am. Thank you." Saryn replied oh so politely.

"Then you are quite free to go."

With a small, quick smile of thanks, Saryn slipped from the bed and straightened her clothes. Once again, Harry looked on, spellbound, and remarked on how languid her gestures were. She moved with such an easy grace that Harry had the feeling he could watch her straighten her buttons all day. But Madame Pomfrey, once again ruining things, gestured for Saryn to come along so she might escort her from the infirmary. As they passed she whispered to him.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Harry."

"I'll see you in the common room." Harry almost replied, when he caught himself. He hadn't thought to ask...

"Saryn!" He called after them. She stopped and turned as her escort threw Harry and impatient glance.

"Saryn, have you been sorted? Do you know what house you're in?"

"Oh yes," She replied as though meaning to mention it earlier. "I'm in Slytherin House." And with that she was whisked away, leaving a very shocked and crestfallen Harry Potter in her wake.

Draco Malfoy had his misgivings. "So just how did a _mudblood_ manage to get into Slytherin?" he spat disgustedly.

"Y'know, I've heard all sorts of things. But Snape says she isn't _technically_ a mudblood, though that's all he'll say. Well, besides that we aren't to bother her about it." Pansy Parkinson provided, loving the taste of the fresh gossip that spilled so eagerly from her lips.

"Is she rooming with you?" Draco asked. At this she gave a resentful snort.

"No. Since she started so late there wasn't anywhere to put her really. They had to fix up an old storage dungeon for her, the little one at the end of the hallway past the _actual_ dormitories." She was trying to come up with some hatefully clever remark about Saryn living in a broom closet to use the next time she encountered the new girl...the trouble was Pansy wasn't clever, only very jealous that Saryn had a private room.

Draco mulled over this, making no attempt to hide the fact he was now ignoring Pansy's continued prattle. Slighted, she finally marched off indignantly leaving Draco to himself.

"What's so technical about being a mudblood?" he muttered, pacing the common room. "Either you are or you aren't." Draco wasn't about to let Salazar Slytherin's noble legacy be tainted by the admittance into their ranks of a textbook incarnation of everything the proud wizard despised. "Might as well wrap Granger in a green and silver scarf."

As he brooded he absently fondled Neville's new rememberall (Neville had had to write to his Gran for a new one, being unable to remember where he'd put the old one) which he had deftly lifted during potions that day. But his self-satisfaction in this was overshadowed by his doubts about his house's latest addition. The mysterious object of his vexation had apparently shut herself in her room sometime during the afternoon when Draco had been out spying on Gryffindor's Quidditch practice. Their new captain, Angelina Johnson, apparently hadn't strayed too far from her predecessor's coaching techniques, so the afternoon might have been a horrendous waste of time...had it not been for the subtle charm Draco had cast as Angelina was putting away the equipment which knocked a particularly irritable bludger from her hands and sent it soaring beautifully right into Harry Potter's unsuspecting ribcage. In the bustle that had ensued, Draco lost himself on the far side of the lake to elude discovery, and by the time he had made it back to the common room, the new girl had already bastioned herself in her room. She didn't even emerge for dinner, which Draco had missed hoping to catch her en route. His growling stomach did little to improve his presently rather sour opinion of her.

The night was wearing on and the common room had long since emptied, despite it being a Friday night. Draco decided it would do just a well to fume over his disappointing evening from the comfort of his bed, and turned to descend the dim passage that led to his room. But before he reached it's threshold he heard, echoing off the bare dungeon walls, the distinct sound of rusty hinges, and the swish and clank of a door being closed...and it had come from the direction of the girl's dormitories. He quickly stowed himself behind the dungeon bulletin board to spy.

A shock of intensely red hair, its length rivaling that of Rapunzel's herself, peeked from the passage and turned slowly as its owner carefully surveyed the common room. Draco watched with baited breath as a profile of delicate, graceful features rotated into view, and then two deep set, almost black eyes swept towards his hiding place. There they stayed, if only for an instant, on the shadows in which Draco stooped. Draco did not so much as breathe. Then, seemingly satisfied, the girl stepped from the passage and glided towards the recently abandoned couch where she curled up, not unlike a snake coiling to rest, and opened the book she had brought. Even though the air was chill, as the summer warmth present outside never really infiltrated their subterranean passages (Draco himself wore a formidable sweater), it didn't seem to bother the girl. She was unshod and otherwise clad only in sheer pajama bottoms and a sleeveless top. Her pale, bare skin had an alabaster glow in the dim light of the torches which failed to penetrate the shadowed pitch of her eyes. There was an uncanny stillness about her. It gave her a sinister air that Draco found very alluring. For a long while he stood unmoving, drinking in the sight of her. "Funny Pansy didn't mention how attractive she was, a fact that could hardly have been easily forgotten." Draco thought. "But then, with the way Pansy's always ogling me, constantly vying for my attention, I can see where she might not be so quick to promote any possible competition. "

It may have been a play of the light, but Draco thought he could discern the traces of a smile deepen in the girl's marble smooth complexion.

"Well, I for one don't remember mentioning any intention to compete. Especially for a boy I've never met."

Draco's mouth fell open and all the blood in his body quickly relocated to the vicinity of his ankles. The girl lifted her eyes to meet his through the darkness, a darkness they couldn't possibly penetrate...or could they? Draco shuffled wordlessly from his hiding place.

"I-I.." He stuttered, his lips trying, and failing, to mold themselves into any semblance of a coherent sentence. Her eyes narrowed in amusement. "Nevermind," she said softly, gesturing to the chair opposite her, "Have a seat."

Draco did this, crossing the room without once taking his eyes off her, and so stumbling more than once over the common room's sparse furnishings in the process.

"I didn't mean to startle you," she said, but then recanted. "Well, perhaps I did. But I couldn't resist, you had so much confidence in your powers of stealth," She was unable to suppress a smile. Had his blood not still been clinging tenaciously to his toes, Draco might have blushed. "I pick up on too many things here," she went on. "Something about the air is super-conducive of..." She stopped, unsure if Draco was absorbing a word of what she said. He blinked and finally shook off his shock.

"Yes?"

"Oh, nothing"

Draco's icy composure was rapidly reassembling itself and he fixed her with a suspicious look. "Who _are_ you?"

She did not respond right away. She seemed to be appraising him. This made Draco extremely uncomfortable, but he refused to show this outwardly and silently berated himself for allowing himself such indulgence earlier.

"My name is Saryn. Saryn Sylvany," she said at last. "And yours?"

"Draco. Draco Malfoy," he replied, accentuating his last name as if to suggest some measure of importance. Saryn was completely unfazed.

"Mr. Malfoy," She acknowledged, "Might I ask why you were spying on me?" It wasn't an indictment.

"I was simply hoping to have a word with our new member." He said flashing a 'trust me' smile that, for all it's perfection, never failed to appear a bit cruel, and certainly not sincere.

"So?" she asked expectantly, "Which word was that?"

Draco's long-plotted interrogation failed him. She didn't quite reek of mudblood as he had expected. Was she really raised by Muggles? Her accent threw him off a bit, but she didn't really act like a muggle. But then Draco hadn't studied many muggles. His thoughts were momentarily written on his expression and he eyed her distrustfully as they slithered through his mind.

"I only wanted to welcome you to Slytherin," he began, now pouring on his oily charm in undue amounts. "As I understand it you weren't raised in the wizarding world. True, that's seems...odd for a Slytherin, but..." he gave a small shrug. "As such, I'm sure you are unaware of the..."

"Politics here?"

"You took the words right out of my mouth. You see, we Slytherins are very proud of our heritage, something we wouldn't want to...defile by associating with those, well, below us." Draco said giving her a meaningful look. He surprised himself. These words seemed like something his father would say. In fact now that he thought about it his father had said them, if not word for word, several times throughout Draco's childhood. Saryn was looking at him thoughtfully and Draco resolved to hold her gaze... _Damn, I thought girls blinked incessantly_...He wasn't sure how much longer he could keep this up.

"So," She said suddenly in a soft voice, startling Draco who had been concentrating very hard on their staring contest. "That carried the tone of a threat, Mr. Malfoy."

"Threat?" he responded as though that was a truly absurd suggestion. " I simply meant that Hogwarts must be a considerable change from the life to you are used to. I thought is might make it easier for you to settle in if you were more...educated...about the way things work here. One less thing for you to worry about. I only had your interests in mind."

"And I suppose _you_ epitomize the ideal Slytherin?" she said after a pause. Something in her tone made him almost afraid to respond, but his pride overrode his caution.

"You might say that. I think for some...say, _Potter_..." he sneered, loathing thick on his tongue as he spoke the name: "...Malfoy and Slytherin are one and the same."

"I see." she said coolly. "So I shall look to you for...inspiration?"

"I would hope," he said conceitedly. "Not that I'd like another Malfoy would-be dragging my heels." He looked her up and down. "You seem to have the manner down nicely. So long as you don't go fraternizing with mudbloods and muggle-lovers...like Weasley or that know-it-all Granger...you should fit in nicely."

"I'll certainly keep that in mind. And thank you so much for the tutorial." She said, and then dismissively returned her attention to her reading. Draco, however, showed no signs of leaving.

"Listen, Sylvany." She raised her eyebrow but not her head. "I don't want to get off on the wrong foot here. I think I might like you...So. If you have any questions concerning...etiquette...I would be more than happy to take you under my wing."

She looked at him thoughtfully. "We shall see. Now, I do believe you were headed for bed?" She smiled at him in a very ambiguous way. "Don't let me keep you."

Harry, Ron, and Hermione made their way toward the Great Hall together. This occurrence was surprisingly rare, as they usually meandered down intermittently, eventually congregating in the usual spot. But this morning Hermione, worried about Harry's injury, had lingered in the common room until he rose. It seems she thought she and Ron might both be needed to carry him to breakfast.

"Are you _sure_ you're alright?" She asked him for the tenth time.

"Hermione, I am _fine_. A little sore perhaps, but nothing to worry about." However, since worrying seemed to be one of Hermione's favorite pastimes his assurances had little effect. Still, she nodded and reluctantly changed the subject.

"So, did you hear there's a new student?"

"Yeah," answered Ron, "Seamus overheard McGonagal talking about it. Don't know much else though." Harry was suddenly very interested in the cuffs of his sweater sleeves.

Hermione scrunched her nose thoughtfully. "Seems strange, doesn't it? Starting so late in the term. Where'd they transfer from do you think? We had all those students transfer from Durmstrang after Karkaroff disappeared. Maybe she just arrived late."

"Um, she didn't transfer from anywhere." Harry offered in a small voice. Hermione slowed in her tracks. " _She_?"

"Yeah, her name's Saryn," he elaborated, suddenly very shy, "She's moved here from the States. I don't think she's ever been to Wizarding school."

"How do you know all this?" she asked.

"I saw her in the infirmary yesterday."

"Yesterday? You talked to her?" asked Ron, torn between curiosity and a mild sense of betrayal, "Well, why didn't you mention it earlier?"

"It was just a quick word," Harry said in his defense and pulled a shrug. "I didn't feel much like talking when I came up, recently shattered ribs and all. Besides, that's really all there is to tell, I promise."

Ron shrugged as well, seemed to accept this, and proceeded earnestly towards breakfast with Harry and Hermione in tow. Hermione, however, did not seem to easily satisfied. This was one of those rare moments when Harry almost resented Hermione's keen intuition. He could feel her look on the back of his neck, but ignored it. He had other things to think about. The mention of Saryn added to his turmoil about how exactly he should feel about the girl, but also reminded him how nonetheless eager he was to see her again. As they entered the Great Hall he automatically scanned the Slytherin table for her red waves, but there was nary a sign of the crimson cascade.

"Is she here?" Ron asked as they settled down with their plates. For show Harry scanned the room again, the _whole_ room, and then shook his head.  
"Hey, I wonder what house she'll be in," Ron mused aloud. Harry's stomach turned. He feigned ignorance and speared absently at his sausages.

"Is she pretty?" Hermione asked rather spontaneously, but the expression she wore looked as if she didn't really want to know.

"As pretty as the next girl," Harry responded, concentrating too hard on sounding nonchalant to find the question odd. He wasn't sure how long he could keep this up. He hated the feeling that he was lying to his best friends, the two people in all the world to whom he felt he could tell almost anything. But somehow he also had the feeling that if they knew he had a raging crush on a member of Slytherin house they'd never let him live it down. He stared at his scrambled eggs as though they might yield some oracle like Trelawny and her tea leaves, but the lumpy composition offered no advice. They had, however, injured Harry's appetite. He'd never noticed just how unpalatable they really appeared.

"This is ridiculous!" he told himself. "It was only a brief encounter. She's in Slytherin, for goodness' sake, how worthwhile can she be?" He shook his head to drive away any further thoughts of the red-head and started chatting enthusiastically with Ron about the upcoming Quidditch game. Per usual when this particular subject is broached, Harry hardly got a word in edgewise. But as Ron began to rant with rising indignation about Slytherin's foul behavior during the last Gryffindor/Slytherin match ("bumphing, haversacking, blagging, sons of-"..."Ron!") Harry found his eyes drift expectantly and involuntarily to the doors of the Great Hall.

Saryn never showed up for breakfast, or lunch. Draco, now completely over the shock of the previous night assumed this absence had something to do with her strange comment about 'picking up on too many things', though what exactly that meant eluded him. "I should have had the presence of mind to ask," he chided himself and wondered if Saryn was in her room just then. Since it was such a pleasant Saturday afternoon, the common room was likely to be nearly empty, and so it seemed the perfect time to make another attempt at his cross-examination.

Saryn was where he had expected to find her, and her door was ajar. Taking this as a standing invitation, Draco let himself in without bothering to knock. The room was small and cluttered with large, mismatched furniture. In the far corner, in a massive leather armchair, sat Saryn. Or rather, _lounged_ Saryn, as she was draped easily and elegantly over it's contours, legs hanging over the armrest. Her eyes were closed, but when Draco came in she smiled, not an inviting smile, or a 'pleasure to see you smile', just a cold, acknowledging smile. But then she ignored him, humming to the faint sound of music coming from what appeared to Draco as a pair of small plastic earmuffs connected by a string to a small, flat plastic box with buttons. As he studied the strange contraption, Saryn's eyelids slid open, gaze automatically fixed on her guest.

"What is that?" Draco asked her, unsure if she could hear him.

"Tori Amos," She replied.

"Who? No, that thing, what is it?" he asked, pointing.

"Do you like Tori Amos?" she asked, totally ignoring his question.

Draco cocked an eyebrow. "I've never met her." She smiled.

"Of course not." She sat up now, drawing one knee to her chest and pulling the other beneath her. Draco mused that it appeared as though things like chairs were totally alien to her, though effortlessly adapted to. He found this particular mannerism, as many others, very seductive. The eerie music coming from the earmuffs faded to silence, and Saryn then fixed him with a gaze which, though not impatient, enticed him to speak.

"Is that...a muggle contraption?" He asked, slightly disgusted.

"Ah yes," she answered, slightly disappointed, and slipped the thing off her head, "the obvious Slytherin abhorrence of anything muggle related. I fear I have slipped in my serpentine duties, but do have patience with me, I'm still learning."

Draco seemed to interpret this as a genuine apology and gave a casual, forgiving wave of his hand before making himself at home on Saryn's bed, reclining on one elbow. "So it's true, you were actually raised by muggles?"

"'Fraid so."

Draco was unsure how exactly to feel about this girl. True, she seemed to have more brains than the typical dungeon resident, and Slytherin house's collective lack of intelligence had been a recurring frustration to Draco. She certainly wasn't hard on the eyes, either. But somehow Draco felt he _should_ be slightly repulsed by the fact that she was _practically_ a muggle.

 _Perhaps I should just feel sorry for her._

But pity was something Draco found he had precious little of, and he usually reserved his small stores for himself. "I didn't see you in the Great Hall," he finally said.

"I thought I should wait until I'm more accustomed to the environment."

"I see," he replied, totally clueless but determined not to show it. Besides, he intended to make himself her saviour. "Well, diner's over, but we can arrange something. I happen to know the secret entrance to the kitchens. I'll show you. Those ridiculous house elves will bury you in goodies."

"I know," she said. "In fact I've eaten, they sent a large amount back with me when I left last night."

"You went to the kitchen's last night?" Draco sat up on the bed.

"Yes, not long after you retired."

"You know, you can get into a fair amount of trouble for wandering the halls at night." he said, more out of crestfallen agitation than concern.

"I figured as much."

 _Hmm. Ballsy little bitch._ "Wait a minute! Just how did you know how to get into the kitchens?"

"Crabbe and Goyle."

"You've spoken to Crabbe and Goyle?" He'd have to have a word with those two, he couldn't believe they didn't mention anything to him.

"Oh no, I've not spoken to anyone besides you really. You should feel special I suppose." She said with a sly smile.

"B-but then how...?"

"Alright, Draco," she interrupted, obviously feeling their parley was getting tedious. "If you have not already surmised, I am fairly...psychic."

"Psychic?" he asked skeptically.

"Yes, psychic, clairvoyant, hyper-intuitive, whichever you'd like to call it. And since I was introduced to the wizarding world it has gradually intensified. Here at Hogwarts, for some reason, I seem to be particularly sensitive, hence my seclusion. It's actually a bloody pain in the arse, to use the native terminology. But, it _is_ occasionally useful...like when two gluttonous half-ogres come trudging into the common room with their arms full of pastries, _still_ chuckling to themselves about the way the pear squirms under their finger when they tickle it...So now perhaps you won't feel quite so sorry for this ballsy little bitch."

Draco was suddenly very uncomfortable. "I'd say it was a _bit_ rude not to mention this a little earlier." His voice held more venom than he had intended.

"I had hoped I wouldn't have to mention it at all. It will be taken care of by Monday. It's much too distracting and Prof. Snape is concocting something to tame it. It's almost a shame," she said grinning mischievously. "It would make taking tests so much easier."

This news allowed Draco to relax a bit, though he was still considerably flustered. "I see. Then in that case perhaps it would be better if I did not pester you before then." He rose to leave.

"Oh, Draco."

He paused at the door.

"I really will be lost on Monday. It's amazing how different things can look by the light of day. If your offer still stands, I would appreciate a faithful guide."

 _She makes it sound like I'm a seeing eye dog._

"Very well. I shall see you on Monday morning then. If you wait for me in the common room, we can go up to breakfast together...Until then." He bowed in a farewell a little too curt to be considered gentlemanly and left.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 _~  
So don't give me respect  
Don't give me a piece of your preciousness;  
flaunt all she's got in our old neighborhood  
I'm sure she'll make a few friends..._

On Monday as classes resumed Saryn finally materialized. She seemed unaffected by the rumors and soft exclamations of awe that followed her through the passages almost as closely as did Draco Malfoy. For days he was on her heels like a pale silver shadow. Smug pride hung on his face like a neon sign laying claim to the beauty and it was powered by every double take or salivating stare of every boy who watched her pass, or the envious glance of every girl whose affections Draco had ever shunned. Saryn, on the other hand, seemed oblivious to all eyes...except Harry's. Her appearance at meals was still a rarity, but when present she always gave him a fleeting glance and the slightest hint of a smile which Harry somehow knew had nothing to do with whatever Draco happened to be whispering in her ear. When she passed him in the halls it was the same, so subtle Harry might have dismissed it as his imagination...had it not been for Hermione.

"Why is she always leering at you?" she fumed on the way to potions.

"Probably because Harry's leering at her," Ron kidded. Harry blushed and Hermione gave Ron a disapproving look.

"What? I leer at her too...Oh come on, Hermione. We can't expect you to understand. Maybe if _Vicky_ was here you'd have something to gawk at as well."

"First of all his name is _not_ Vicky! And second..." Hermione's retort was cut short by a familiar drawl from behind them.

"Well if it isn't the Holy Trinity." Draco remarked. "Lover's spat, Weasley? Come now, we all know how much you adore muggles, but surely you can overlook the few measly drops of wizarding blood Granger _does_ possess."

"Sod off, Malfoy!" Ron spat before Hermione drug him into the dungeons casting Malfoy a look smattering of such contempt it would have made the blood run cold in any other person. Malfoy's lip curled in sadistic satisfaction. Harry glared at his as well and ducked into the potions classroom after his friends, but as he did he caught sight of Saryn coming to a halt beside the blond boy. Harry did an about face and hovered just inside the doorway hoping to at least hear the sound of her voice.

"Why do you always wear that thing, Draco?" came her mercurial tone. Harry peeked round the door frame.

Malfoy tilted his head at her, exceedingly perplexed. "What? My tie?" he said stroking it. "It's standard school uniform. But of course Father bought me this silk one last sum-"

"-I was referring to that sneer," she corrected. Harry only just caught a hiccup of laughter before it escaped his lips. "You know, you'd really be a strikingly handsome boy if you weren't constantly contorting your features." Harry disliked hearing Saryn referring to Draco Malfoy as 'strikingly handsome', but perhaps it was worth it to see Malfoy's ears burn a shade of crimson that rivaled the color of Saryn's hair, a stark contrast to his pale complexion; whether it was from being publicly criticized or from being considered strikingly handsome was impossible to tell. Harry had the feeling it was a combination of the two. Malfoy was, for once in his life, speechless. With an indifferent air, she left her stunned companion to go to class. Harry had to practically sprint to his table to avoid being caught by her. As he took his seat he noted Ron and Hermione were still arguing in hushed tones.

"You won't believe what I just overheard." Harry said jubilantly, but was ignored.

"Well I for one don't understand what all the fuss is about," Hermione stated. "So she looks as though she hasn't seen the sun for ten years...So it looks like her head is bleeding profusely. Is that all it takes to turn a head? Pasty skin and unnaturally red hair?...And I'll bet you _anything_ it isn't natural...And it isn't just you hormone driven little boys either." Ron looked very upset about being called a little boy, but she didn't give him a chance to voice his indignation. "The staff seems to have gone gaga over her as well," she went on. "I mean every professor treats each of the students with a certain respect, well except Snape that is. But they approach _her_ with a reverence that seems to border on fear. I want to know just what could be so _bloody_ special about her." She must have really been bothered by this, Hermione almost never swore.

"Well, Trelawny was talking about her in Divination." Ron said. "I mean, I'm not exactly sure what all she said, 'cause a' course, I wasn't paying any attention as usual. But she mentioned something about being impressed by her 'powers'."

Hermione was exasperated. "Oh _please_ , Ron. Trelawny is a kook. And if she's so fond of this girl and her 'powers' than _she_ must be a kook as well!"

"I don't know why you'd say that."

The three of them swiveled toward the voice simultaneously. Ron's mouth went slack and Hermione turned a very endearing shade of pink. There stood none other than Saryn Sylvany herself, a puzzled but unconcerned look on her face. Hermione was a little embarrassed but, once recovered from her shock, stood her ground.

"I say that because that is what she is. How she can call herself a professor and still sleep soundly at night is beyond me. The subject is pointless. It should be called Elaborate Conjecture instead of Divination. All she does is perpetuate superstitions."

"I'm not entirely certain about that." Saryn replied. "You're muggle-born aren't you?"

"I hardly see what _that_ has to do with anything!" Hermione roiled.

"I meant no offense," Saryn interjected. "I just thought that you would be familiar with, or at the very least vaguely aware of, the concepts of physics. I find it is an area of study most wizards are not well versed in. Mention Einstein and they react about the way a muggle would to the name Dumbledore."

Hermione accepted this, but looked at Saryn as if to ask 'And your point?'

"What I'm saying is...well, the universe follows a certain set of rules which we do not _entirely_ understand. Regardless of our ignorance, these rules still apply and we see them at work everyday. A muggle, no doubt would look upon all we do here much in the same way you look upon Divination: smoke and mirrors and superstition. We, however, know better. But magic is a condition of life that we accept in full faith, we don't question it." Hermione raised an eyebrow impatiently. "What I'm saying is," Saryn continued in her characteristic tone of infinite, unruffled patience, "if we raise our wands and say ' _wingardium leviosa'_ , we know the object will rise." Saryn did this, levitating Hermione's sealed ink bottle. She lowered her wand but the bottle remained suspended. Then, to their surprise, it began to twirl and dance, seemingly like the thoughts through Saryn's mind. She stared at it absently as she continued. "Now we don't know exactly how or why this works. Neither, perhaps, do we care to 'waste' time trying to explain it. Quantum Physics may provides us with some answers as to this phenomenon, but as the technicalities are, to us, superfluous we don't seek to understand them." Saryn raised her hand and, using her finger like a conductor's baton, lazily directed the rotating ink bottle in loops and spirals. "Why this works for us and not for muggles is a remarkable curiosity. It appears to have much to do with predisposition, innate power which is obviously not universal. In this same way perhaps there are those more predisposed to the art of Divination. But those people, confident in it's validity, care more about developing their craft than contriving scientific rationalizations for those with lesser ability in that area."

"Are you saying," Hermione said in a forcibly calm voice that, frankly, frightened both Ron and Harry, "that there is a hierarchy of magical ability and you and Trelawny rank higher in it than I do?"

Saryn regarded Hermione's acrid expression. She raised her hand and the ink bottle stopped tumbling and went soaring into her waiting palm. "I'm not sure what I'm saying," she said, returning Hermione's ink to her. "Only musing aloud."

"Oh it's alright," Hermione spat sardonically. " _Most_ Slytherins assume superiority in an imagined wizarding aristocracy. I'm hardly surprised."

Saryn only looked at Hermione with an unreadable expression, and without retort returned to her seat beside Draco who immediately leaned in to whisper to her. He cast a sidelong sneer at Hermione's infuriated expression. A sneer which quickly dissolved as he met Saryn's look and recalled the recent episode in the hallway. Harry broke into half a righteous grin and turned to his friend.

"Y'know, Hermione," he said timidly, "I'm not sure she meant that in the way you're taking it."

"Yeah," Ron added, "I mean, I'd never thought of it that way...maybe I should start waiting to take my naps until _after_ Divination." This comment did not help matters.

"Oh please, Harry! You know how Slytherins are. I'm surprised she didn't just out and say my muggle heritage must have sabotaged my 'powers' of Divination."

"Well maybe she's not like most Slytherins," Harry returned.

"If she wasn't like most Slytherins, she wouldn't be one now would she?" Hermione spat.

Before Harry could argue, Snape came striding to his podium. The expression he wore told them he had overheard everything that had just transpired. He cast Harry and his friends a snotty look and then began his lesson.

"Today, class, we will begin work on the Draught of Disillusionment. It is a highly advanced potion which, no doubt, our Mr. Longbottom will not be the one to succeed famously in mispreparing." Neville seemed to shrink in his seat and cast an imploring look at Hermione who nodded reassuringly back at him. The entire exchange was specially noted by the Potions Master. "Now, many of you may foolishly take for granted the function of this draught, which really is quite self-explanatory. However, the nature of illusions, especially those self-imposed, is precisely to play down the potency of reality and form a rather comfortable blanket of denial about the afflicted. The purpose of the draught is to rip away the self spun fantasy pertaining to whatever matter weighs heaviest upon it's drinker...but also to cause them to accept the truth of said circumstance." He stared meaningfully down his long hawkish nose at his class. "This last part is more important than one might realize. I have seen subjects who have ingested a poorly brewed draught go momentarily mad under the weight of the bare truth they are suddenly forced to confront. Keep that in mind as you prepare it, especially those of you with unusually harsh circumstances, past or present..." His eyes shot immediately to Harry "...as you will be testing your potions yourself at the end of the term. I believe you will find the instructions on page 1216 of your texts. Proceed."

Neville began to gather his things as Hermione made room for him to join Harry, Ron and her at their table, but Snape quickly intervened.

"No, I think not, Miss Granger. If Mr. Longbottom cannot follow a potions recipe by now he all but deserves his fate." Neville cast his eyes sheepishly to the floor, while Hermione threw Snape a dagger drawn look. Snape almost smiled as he continued. "However, since the potion is an advanced one, and considering Miss Sylvany's disadvantage, I think you shall, instead, be coaching her."

It was all Hermione could do to hold her tongue. Saryn began to gather her things.

"No, no, Miss Sylvany, don't trouble yourself. Miss Granger can go to you." He said turning toward his office.

"It's really no trouble. That wouldn't quite be polite, and I already have my things in hand," Saryn replied matter-of-factly as she made her way towards the stunned Gryffindor. Snape froze and pivoted to face the girl, disbelief flickering over his expression, his face going even pale than usual, before he was able to regain his composure. Blatant contradiction was a rare occurrence in his dungeon, and absolutely unheard of coming from a member of his own house. But Saryn seemed to ignore him, even as everyone else eyed him in startled, breathless anticipation. Surprisingly, the professor said nothing at all in reprimand, and finally strode sulkily to his office and slammed the door.

Saryn meanwhile was arranging her things almost cheerfully before her. Harry gawked in undisguised admiration. Ron actually smiled at her. Hermione, on the other hand, was staring holes in the tabletop.

"Why did you do that?" she asked, obviously suspicious, despite her relief.

"Well, it appeared he was being a bit mean spirited. I didn't think, from the look on your face, that you'd want to be surrounded by Slytherins. And frankly," she said, leaning in to whisper conspiritorily, "neither do I."

The rest of the class period passed rather quietly, and Hermione's voice just almost sounded friendly as she explained to Saryn that if she didn't shave her shrivelfig more finely it would never dissolve properly. At last Professor Snape reappeared to dismiss the class (he had curiously remained stowed in his office the entire period) but finished with a request that Miss Sylvany kindly remain behind. Hermione was the first out of the room, literally dragging Ron and Harry after her by the shirtfront, without a single parting word to Saryn.

However, they were soon to discover their friend was not simply fleeing the scene. The moment they cleared the threshold she ducked behind the open door, motioning for Ron and Harry to follow suit.

"What are we doing?" groaned Ron, "It's lunchtime." His stomach growled in agreement.

"Shh. Something's going on here and I, for one, want to know what."

Harry, however, didn't argue. He had little appetite; butterflies had wrecked havoc on his stomach from sitting so close to Saryn for the entire class period. Besides, he was, of course, curious himself.

The classroom slowly emptied with no one paying any attention to the assembly behind the door. When the last student left Harry, Ron, and Hermione stacked like a totem pole to peer through the thin crack made by the hinges between the door and wall.  
Snape stood imposingly at the front of the classroom with Saryn waiting expectantly before him.

"Miss Sylvany, I'm not entirely sure what kind of liberties you've enjoyed elsewhere." he intoned. "However, in my classroom, and indeed out of it as well, I demand a certain amount of respect. I'm aware of your circumstance. But surely know you are not the only student here to have suffered misfortune and it is no excuse. Perhaps you think that because you are a member of my own house that you will be more easily forgiven, though I am here to inform you are mistaken, as I am very likely to be harsher on that account. I expect there to be no cause or occasion for me to repeat myself," he all but threatened.

"I honestly didn't mean any disrespect." She replied. "I assure you I do respect you, and I don't presume to be superior to you in any way really. But I won't cower like the rest, I'm not another trembling Malfoy riding your robe tails and begging your approval. And I happen to think your prejudice for Harry and his friends is a little unprofessional of you and I don't mind saying so." The trio behind the door almost gasped in unison.

Snape glowered at her. "You know absolutely nothing about my relationship with any of the other students and so are in no position to criticism me for it," he hissed. The two stared at each other for several tense seconds. "At least do not undermine my authority in front of the others," he said at last, almost defeatedly.

"You have my word professor."

He then, almost reluctantly, produced a small vial filled with a pale blue liquid from the folds of his robe, which Saryn took very gratefully, sighing as though with relief as she stowed it in her own pocket. Behind the door Hermione narrowed her eyes in intrigue and chewed her bottom lip.

"I assume the serum is working?" he asked.

"Perfectly, thank you professor." He nodded, then did not so much dismiss her as turn his back and begin to ignore her.

" _What_ are you three _doing_?"

The spies jumped simultaneously, bouncing off one another not unlike the three stooges, all eventually ending up on the floor in the most ungraceful positions. Draco Malfoy was chuckling at them in his cruel, condescending way. He had obviously come back to fetch Saryn. But no one had time to stammer an excuse, as she suddenly immerged from the room. To their surprise, Draco did not betray their presence to her, but instead looked pointedly at Harry as he slipped his arm familiarly around the girl's waist and pulled her in for a light, but lingering kiss. Harry felt more murderous towards him than usual, and if Ron hadn't been sitting on him he just might have done something foolish. However, Saryn seemed to tolerate it all very well, even smiled at Draco and took his arm, and Draco threw Harry one last triumphant sneer before leading his prize to dinner.

Draco was slightly disturbed by Saryn's behavior in Potions. What was she thinking speaking to the Professor like that? As he watched her over his cauldron he resolved to have another word with her. Hadn't he already warned her about those kinds of people? Surely she realized any typical, self-respecting Slytherin would not only have left Granger to her own devices, but actually would have delighted in Snape's decision... _not_ play a saviour. But if Draco had surmised one thing since she had arrived, it was that Saryn wasn't typical, and he sensed something conniving, almost malicious beneath her placid exterior...And it was wildly erotic. Who knows, perhaps she had something in mind, like sabotaging their potions. Now _that_ would be gloriously Slytherin-esque.

After class had ended Saryn had asked Draco to take her books and things back to the common room so that they could proceed directly to diner after Snape had 'said his piece'. And though Draco resented being bossed around, no matter how sweetly or tactfully, he deemed it worthwhile. So long as she relied on him he obviously didn't have to worry about competition really, and with the exception of her little remark in the corridors before class, she generally refrained from causing him any public humiliation on that account...and besides, every boy in school was madly jealous of him. Which was delicious. But the true icing on the cake was the way it obviously irked Harry Potter. He'd seen those green eyes, full of yearning, drift inevitably over at them during meals and while in the corridors. He had to admit, he didn't exactly like the idea of her spending the rest of the term at his table in Potions, but with Weasley and Granger between them he wasn't too worried...besides, Harry Potter simply didn't seem like Saryn's type.

Draco wasn't too worried, even though he and Saryn had yet to _seriously_ snog. But then she had only been there a week, and that problem would likely be solved soon as he was planning something unforgettable for their first visit to Hogsmead together that weekend. He could see it now. An early evening candlelight picnic, a box of Honeyduke's' finest chocolate, a bottle of wine pilfered from Rosemerta's...she'd be putty in his hands.

Draco was fully envisioning this evening on his way back to Potions to retrieve his trophy. Was actually so intent on this that he hardly noticed the 'Holy Trinity' crouched by the door of the classroom until he was practically on top of them. The looks on their faces when he spoke! It was quite gratifying to see Potter flat of his stomach with Weasley perched atop him like a startled chimp. Those three had always been too nosy for their own good. What a perfect opportunity to rub his relationship with Saryn in Potter's face.

"You seem in an awfully good mood" Saryn remarked on their way to the Great Hall.

"What boy wouldn't be with a beautiful girl like you on his arm?" Draco said, following the remark with the most debonair smile he could muster.

"Hmm." Was her only reply.

"...So, did Snape give you some more serum?" He ventured. Though she hadn't seemed to pick up on anything for several days, Draco still wasn't certain he entirely trusted her.

"He did. But I hate taking it on an empty stomach. And you know how it disorients me, so I hope you don't mind escorting me to my room after and picking up any homework for me from our afternoon class." Draco sighed.

"No problem at all." He said, trying to sound convincing


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 _~  
First he loved my accent  
How his knees could bend  
~_

"Harry! How many chocolate frogs are you _getting_?"

"Shh, Hermione, he's sharing...right, Harry?"

"What? Sure, Ron. Is that all you can carry?" Harry asked distractedly as he grabbed a second bag of Every Flavor Beans.

Of course Ron could carry more, if..."Here, Hermione, hold these."

Hermione made a disgruntled noise as she struggled to catch the stray frogs slipping from atop of the mountain of candy that was being dumped into her reluctant arms. "Harry," she said from somewhere behind them, "Harry, is there any _reason_ why you are buying out Honeyduke's?"

"I like chocolate," was his unconvincing reply as they heaved the goodies onto the counter. The girl at the register gave Harry a very odd look. He shrugged and repeated, rather more shyly, "I like chocolate."

They left the shop with no fewer than three large bags laden with various treats. Harry had spent more on candy in the past ten minutes than Ron's family had spent on all his fifth year school texts combined.

"Harry," Hermione ventured in a concerned voice. "Are you alright? I mean, there's nothing you want to talk about is there?"

Ron groaned and rolled his eyes at her, already tearing into what he considered his share of the candy as Harry advanced several steps ahead of them. A thin, chocolate, frog leg protruding from his lips was still twitching slightly when he spoke. "Hermione, why do you _always_ feel the need to question good fortune?"

"Just because you're blinded by free treats, doesn't mean I am." she snapped. "Something's obviously wrong, and has been ever since the arrival of that...that..." She trailed off, perhaps thinking it better not to hash this argument in the middle of the main path through Hogsmead.

"Harry's fine," Ron insisted. "He just has a bit of a sweet tooth, he told you so himself. And he'll tell you again, right, Harry? Harry? Hey! where are you off to?"

Harry was proceeding determinedly towards Hogwarts. "I'm going back to the common room." he said.

"What? Without having one single mug of butterbeer at Rosmerta's? But we haven't even set foot in Zonko's! And I wanted to find something really nasty so I could get back at Fred for..."

"You go ahead," Harry interrupted. "You don't have to follow me back."

"I told you something was wrong!" Hermione hissed beside Ron, who was looking after his retreating friend in undisguised bafflement. Ron and Hermione exchanged a worried look. "Oi there, Harry. Wait up! You're right. It'll take us all night to open all these frogs. And hey, if we come across a Matilda Munkshank, d'ya mind if I keep it? I traded mine to Dean for Lemmy Gurkins."

" _Who_?" Hermione asked.

"Lemmy Gurkins," Ron responded as though it were a household name. "One time keeper and former coach of the Chudley Cannons, leading them through their first undefeated season in half a century. Member of the International Association of Quidditch Hall of Fame and one of my _personal_ heroes."

Hermione rolled her eyes and jogged to keep up with the two.

An hour later Harry, Ron, and Hermione sat in Gryffindor, and between them the small study table had been transformed into a writhing, twitching mound of chocolate. After the first dozen or so they had abandoned the idea of eating what they opened and now just set the enchanted candy free in the common room. Empty boxes littered the floor.

"Who's that?"

"Derwent Shimply," Harry read aloud in answer. "Often considered the world's funniest wizard, Derwent once ate an entire venomous tentacula plant on a dare. He survived, but his face may forever remain purple." Harry and Ron looked at each other, then simultaneously nodded and Derwent went in the 'keeper' pile.

"Sacharrissa Tugwood." Ron said dodging Sacharrissa's accompanying frog. "The first person to use magic for cosmetic purposes. Discovered the acne curing properties of bubotuber pus. Her tombstone reads: Thanks to Sacharissa the world is a more beautiful place." Ron raised his eyebrow.

"Naw," they uttered in unison. Sacharrisa was tossed aside, narrowly missing Hermione. "Really," she said with a shake of her head. "How old are you two again?"

"I'll have you know I'm a serious collector." Ron said lifting his chin. "It's an investment, Hermione. Why, one day these might be worth a fair stack of Galleons. Besides...they're educational. I'm surprised you don't collect them yourself."

"If I want to know something about famous witches and wizards, I'll go to the library."

"You do that anyway." Ron said in exasperation. "Besides, hopping candy makes it all much more interesting."

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed Ron another unopened frog.

"Hey look, Harry! It's one of you."

Harry James Potter  
aka  
The Boy Who Lived

Harry is perhaps most renowned for being the only known  
survivor of the unforgivable _killing curse_ and is widely thought responsible for the fall of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, a feat made even more astonishing by the fact that he was a mere one year old at the time.

More recently, in his first year at Hogwarts School of  
Witchcraft and Wizardry, Potter added to his notoriety  
by becoming the youngest Quidditch player of the last  
hundred years.

"It must be kinda old. You've done tons more stuff than that since then. " Ron pointed out. "But then they'd probably have to space it all over at least a few cards." Harry groaned. He hated his 'notoriety.'

Hermione took it from Ron and turned it over to reveal a very young Harry in scarlet Quidditch robes, cheesing at them, snitch in hand.

"Y'know, I forget you're famous half of the time." Ron said as he examined it. "I mean...you're Harry. Not 'Harry James Potter'. It's weird seeing you on a card."

"It's weird _being_ on a card," Harry replied. "But I suppose I should be used to it. At least now I pretty much know as much about myself as the rest of the world does." He pocketed the card with a sigh. Saryn hadn't known him. She had talked to him and had liked him and it had nothing whatsoever to do with his fame, or reputation. She had like him for his own sake. And they had so much in common: both orphaned, both raised in the muggle world. She _had_ liked him hadn't she? And she knew all about him now, right? No doubt Malfoy had filled her in. Ha! Harry was sure _that_ must have been a fair description. Maybe he should give her his card. Harry had a sudden image of himself sauntering up to Saryn with a debonair smile and a wink, speaking in a voice reminiscent of one Prof. Lockhart: _"Here's my card, I signed it, free of charge. Call me."_

"Look at this," Hermione said bringing Harry back to reality. She had given in and was shucking the cards as well. She showed her find to her companions.

"Hey, she looks just like the new girl." Ron said, as always, master of the obvious. "Definitely got the same hair."

Harry took it from them. A much older version of Saryn stared at him with the same knowing expression.

Mariyn Sylvany 1843-1955  
Auror and world famous Seer. Besides helping bring an end to the dark wizard Grindlewold's following, her visions saved many lives by accurately predicting, not only the Swedish Goblin uprising of 1867, but also the Weasel Pox epidemic of 1902.

"The granddaughter of an Auror...in Slytherin? How strange..." Hermione had 'that look'...the one she always got before tearing off to the library without a word of explanation. But before she had a chance, Harry rose to leave himself.

"Y'know guys," he said, the sullenness he had hoped to cure with chocolate returned to his voice, "I think I'm going to go for a few around the pitch."

"But, Harry, we still have a whole other bag to open."

"Maybe tomorrow," He said making his way toward the staircase. Hermione elbowed Ron impatiently.

"Eh, want me to come too? I saw this great new move over the summer. Charlie took us all to watch the Holyhead Harpies/ Wimbourne Wasps match. And the Wasps' seeker, Harry, you wouldn't believe this thing he did. It looked like a Wronski feint but then he suddenly..."

"Really Ron, Hermione. I understand you guys are trying to cheer me up. But I just have some things on my mind and need some time alone. I'll be okay."

Without waiting for an answer Harry went upstairs to retrieved his Firebolt. He didn't even bother passing back through the common room, but instead swung wide the large dormitory windows and flew out of them, descending in a slow, graceful spiral to the earth below. Flying a few feet above the ground he allowed himself to get lost in his thoughts as he watched his shadow glide beside him on the green grass. The sun would soon set, but was still high enough to warm him, yet low enough to glare, annoyingly unavoidable. For this reason Harry kept his eyes lowered and hooded, for this reason he didn't see her until he was already too close to slip away unnoticed.

Sitting in the very center of the Quidditch field was Saryn, back to the sun, staring up at the towering bleachers. It seemed strange seeing her there. With few exceptions, Harry rarely saw her in the daylight. It was always the Potions dungeon or darkened corridors that he saw when he thought of her, where she was the brightest object in view. Seeing her in the warm rays of the sun seemed somehow...tragic. Like seeing the full moon in the mid-afternoon sky, perfect still but paled, it's beauty wronged by the contending brilliance of the sun, deserving instead the inky expanse of midnight to accentuate it's unsurpassing glory. Taming his butterflies, Harry dismounted and strolled over to her.

"Hello, Saryn. I'm surprised to see you here."

"I'd never been here," she shrugged. "I didn't have anything else to do, so I decided to come have a look."

"You didn't go into Hogsmead?"

"Well, I wanted a little time to myself"

"I'm sorry, am I bothering you? I can go," Harry said quickly.

"No no, stay. I suppose what I should have said was I wanted a little time away from Draco."

Harry almost stopped breathing in the face of the surge of hope that swelled in him at that remark. _You have your chance. Say something...don't just stand here like an idiot._

When the silence had become almost uncomfortable, she spoke. "It's all so very...Massive. Do you really play all the way up there?" she asked pointing a finger skyward. Harry nodded.

"But aren't you afraid you might, well, fall off?"

"It happens," he replied with a shrug "In fact it's happened to me a couple of times." She appeared absolutely horrified "But it's not all that bad. I mean, I'm still here. Once you get up there it's not scary. Actually it's really quite liberating." Saryn didn't seem to have much faith in that comment...

 _Am I really doing this? No your not...your standing, staring at her like a moron...C'mon!_ The question wanted desperately to escape his lips _. Relax, be suave...just ask her!_

"So...have you ever been on a broom?

"Oh no," she said emphatically

"Would you like to go for a spin? Really, unless you suddenly lose consciousness or something, there's nothing to be afraid of."

Saryn bit her lower lip and eyed the Firebolt, obviously very tempted.

He mounted the broom and held it low for her to do the same. "Come on. I'll be right here beside you."

"And that thing will carry us both?"

"Of course."

After a few more seconds of deliberation, she was on her feet. "But I'm wearing a skirt."

"Then ride sidesaddle"

"And your certain you won't let me fall?"

"Come here," he said, politely taking her hand to help her onto the broom. He reached an arm around either side of her and grasped hold of the broom in front of them both. Saryn had to wrap her arm around Harry's shoulder to allow him to lean forward and hold the broom, and his face was deliciously close to her collarbone. He was suddenly really very dizzy. Everything seemed to lose substance...except the presence of her. He was so close he could smell the scent of her freshly laundered robes, the aroma of her skin, the perfume of her hair. Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.

"See," he managed to say. "All snug."

"All snug," she repeated. They looked at each other for the longest time...

 _Do something!_

Harry swallowed hard. There were a dozen somethings Harry wanted to do, but in the end he did none of them and instead kicked off, pointing them toward the heavens. As soon as his feet left the ground Harry knew he was going to be just fine. The familiar surge of confidence he always felt when flying swept away all uncertainties. He was in complete control...of himself...of the situation. Saryn grasped desperately at his collar, almost choking him. But when he leveled off and began a few slow laps around the field she relaxed, releasing him altogether to twist this way and that looking at everything below and around them. It seemed she had forgotten Harry entirely, until she turned and gave him the sweetest fascinated smile.

This was wonderful! To see her so happy and know that he, Harry, had caused it. But it was nicer when she had had her arm around him he thought with a frown. A mischievous thought floated through Harry's mind... without warning he suddenly threw the broom into a steep, speedy dive. Saryn gasped and clung to him fiercely. He executed a few masterful loops before bring the broom again to a halt.

" _Don't_ do that!" she commanded, giggling despite herself. Harry was grinning from ear to ear and couldn't help but laugh at her. The danger had passed, but she still clung to him, one arm around his waist clutching at the small of his back, the other hand twined around his neck. Harry could feel her heart pound beneath the swell of the small breasts pressed against him, crushing closer with each deep breath. Without thinking Harry brought his hand off the broom to slip it around Saryn's tiny beveled waist and pull her even closer to him. His heart was pounding in his chest. The rays of the setting sun on her hair ignited a fiery halo around them as her impossibly long tresses swirled about them in the warm breeze. Time stood still.

Harry wondered if first kisses were always so sweet. He was convinced that had it been any more exquisite he might have died of it. Her lips were like velvet on his, warm and yielding...Harry lost all sense of where he was and of himself, conscious of nothing but where they two touched...

It was she who broke away...Had to be, for if left up to Harry the kiss would have lasted through tomorrow morning. Harry nuzzled at her face, unwilling to separate so soon. "So...how do you like flying?" he asked to her cheek.

She grinned. "I think I could grow very accustomed to it." She sighed and despite his reluctance she pulled back. "Isn't this a tad unseemly? A Slytherin and a Gryffindor snogging on the Quidditch field? Whatever will our friends think?" she asked in a way that plainly said she couldn't care less.

"Who says they have to know?" Harry grinned.

"Ooo. A secret love affair."

 _...Love Affair..._

Lifting her lithe fingers to smooth the raven strands from his forehead, she gazed at Harry dreamily, large brown eyes resting on his scar. "The famous Harry Potter. I'm a lucky girl."

"Special, most definitely...but lucky? I'm not exactly in high demand."

"I can't imagine why."

"I think maybe all the girls here are terrified to be close to me. I suppose it _is_ dangerous, risking getting caught in the crossfire. Or perhaps no one wants to get too attached to me just in case Voldemort succeeds in killing me one of these years." He said lightly, but he couldn't hide the weariness in his voice.

She snuggled closer to him, if that was possible, and gave him a playful smile. "I like a little danger. It makes life much more interesting don't you think? But are _you_ certain about this? You never know. I might turn out to be more perilous than a host of Dark Lords." Harry didn't doubt it for an instant.

"I'll take my chances," he said leaning in for another kiss.

They stayed out until long after dark when Harry, fearing someone would eventually come looking for them, lowered them back down to earth. Their goodbye was prolonged and reluctant and several times voiced before it was finally achieved. Harry lay in bed for hours replaying the evening in his mind's eye, memorizing every detail before succumbing to dreams of velvet kisses and mid-afternoon moonlight.

***  
The letter had come unexpectedly as Draco was making his way back to Slytherin from Hogsmead. He had hated going without Saryn, but had thought it might be a nice opportunity to pick up a gift for her. Though, there was little in the small wizarding village Draco felt lived up to his discerning and expensive standards. After a long and disappointing search, he bought a couple of candles from Zonko's whose flames changed colors with one's mood. They were a bit novel, but subtle and subdued enough not to be tacky. Then he stopped into Rosmerta's where he managed to summon a tasteful and very pricey bottle of red wine while the lovely barkeep was distracted. He was heading back to the school with his modest finds when the Malfoy family owl came swooping before him. Looking quickly to see that no one was around, Draco motioned for the bird to follow him to a less conspicuous spot off the main path where he relieved it of its burdens. He opened the letter immediately. It was in his father's distinguished hand:

 _Draco, it has come to my attention that Slytherin house has had a rather recent, rather...unusual new addition. The girl's circumstances are well known to me, and my associates._

"Great," thought Draco glancing at the wine bottle under his arm. "He's probably heard she's muggle raised and wants to warn me not to sully our reputation." He read on with dread.

 _You are to be very sensitive to her situation. This is no doubt a confusing and impressionable time for her. Attempt to indoctrinate her to the mentality of her house, as no doubt her muggle upbringing has put her at a disadvantage. Also, it would be very propitious should you succeed in winning the girl's affections. See that she feels accepted and otherwise provided for. No desire, regardless of expense, should be ignored. Enclosed is a gift you might present when it is timely, and extend to her an invitation to spend the upcoming holidays here at Malfoy Manor. I trust you will not disappoint me._

Draco blinked at the note he held. He had just been instructed, practically ordered, to woo Saryn...even at the expense of the entire family fortune. He fumbled to open the accompanying parcel. Draco could hardy believe his eyes. Wrapped in immaculate black velvet was a small box containing a very beautiful silver pendant necklace encrusted with green jewels. He held it up to examine it. Two intricately fashioned snakes twined around each other, jade marked the pattern on their backs and their eyes were denoted by four fiery emeralds. It reminded Draco of something he'd once seen in his father's study. No doubt it was priceless. Draco was a little embittered by the fact that his father could give a complete stranger such a thing when Draco had had to beg for months to get his new model broomstick.

The owl, who had been waiting all this while in a nearby tree, hooted and ruffled it's feathers.

"Go on," he instructed, "I'll write Father when I return to the castle." In a moment it was gone and Draco stood for a long while staring at where it had disappeared into the rays of the setting sun.

There was no answer at Saryn's door when Draco knocked, and while this was not unusual it was disappointing. He wondered if she were out or simply ignoring him.

"It's a bit soon for a gift like this, and I should write Father anyway, while Crabbe and Goyle are still out," he thought aloud to himself making his way back to his room. His two friends had thankfully kept their distance since Draco set his mind on winning Saryn. Though, Draco had a feeling it was more out of confusion and probably hurt feelings than understanding, as neither of them had yet discovered, or really seem all that interested in, the wonders of the opposite sex. He made a point of giving them treats from his personal stash, which, as much as he enjoyed knowing he had a bag full of sweets under his bed all his own, he wasn't really a sweets kind of person, so he typically gave them those things that were a week from being inedible (they never chewed them long enough to taste them or really tell the difference) and they shared a few remarks about their mutual hatreds from behind their bed curtains before drifting off to sleep, and this kept them placated and loyal and bought him plenty of space. And so, they were out still, the evening being fairly young.

Draco stowed the necklace in a secret compartment in his trunk at the foot of his bed and sat at his desk, jet black raven's quill already in hand.

 _The girl's conquest is well underway_ he wrote. _When it is timely I shall present her with your generous gift and extend to her your invitation. I would rather wait until I'm certain they won't be refused. Miss Sylvany is quickly becoming accustomed to our values and expectations, with my assistance of course. I shall write you again when she accepts. You can rely on me, Father._

Could he really? Draco certainly hoped so. Though, he'd learned long ago never to express any signs of weakness or doubt to his father. This was so unlike him. He didn't doubt himself, he was a Malfoy! Still, it was different with her. All his life his name had either incited malice or admiration, and typically any who seemed indifferent to his heritage were not counted by him to be worthy of consideration. But the fact that his name and affiliations meant nothing to Saryn one way or the other caused unwelcome turmoil in the boy. And now that she was obviously very important to his father, for some reason he still could not grasp, the pressure piled higher.

He rallied his confidence, he didn't have anything to be worried about, really. After all, he was Draco Malfoy.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

 _~  
And you would if I would  
But you never would_

~

The next morning Harry all but skipped to the Great Hall for breakfast. And as he slid in to his usual spot opposite Ron and Hermione, he offered them the first genuine smile they'd seen in days.

"Good Morning," he beamed.

"Morning," Hermione returned rather reluctantly. Ron only moaned.

"Alright there, Ron?" Harry asked, noticing his friend looking uncharacteristically pale.

"He'll be all right," Hermione assured, shaking her head at Ron. "He tried to finish off the frogs you opened last night."

"Well it seemed a shame to leave them all just lying there," he groaned. "Besides, isn't chocolate supposed to be good for you?"

"Well, in moderation when attacked by dark forces, but not by the pound when you are perfectly well. Honestly, Ron." She turned to Harry. "You seem in higher spirits this morning."

"Well...er...I found a bit of...comfort at the pitch last night."

"Good," she nodded curtly. "I'm glad you've finally accepted the fact that that Sylvany girl doesn't want to have anything to do with you."

Harry didn't suppress his shock.

"Harry, I've been one of your best friends for 5 years. You think I can't tell what's been bothering you? You'd do well to steer clear of her anyway. Even if she isn't a 'typical' Slytherin, she seems awfully close to Malfoy, so you obviously can't trust her taste in company. Personally, if she _had_ shown interest in I'd wonder just what she thinks you're actually like. I mean, if she knew you at all she'd know you wouldn't get mixed up with those kinds of people."

"You're probably right, Hermione. I appreciate it." He said when her tirade had ended. He decided to play along. This clearly wasn't the time for confessions.

Hermione adopted the same relieved expression she always wore when she felt she had succeeded in talking some sense into her illogical companions. Thoroughly self-satisfied, she concentrated on her meal.

Harry turned to do the same, when he felt something strike his leg and fall to the floor. He glanced down and saw a folded piece of parchment lying beside his foot, and then he glanced over at the Slytherin table and saw Saryn had slipped in. She gave him a subtle wink and returned her attention to Malfoy who was speaking very animatedly, and quite obliviously, beside her. Harry was just about to bend down and retrieve the note when Ron spoke.

"What was that?"

Harry looked up abruptly to catch Ron curiously peering over the edge of the table and then ducking to look beneath. Harry placed his foot over the parchment just in time.

"What was what?" Hermione asked.

"I was sitting here trying to ignore my eggs when I saw something fly at Harry." Hermione cocked her head and looked at Harry

"Must have been a bug," he said nervously.

"Didn't look like a bug. It was really big if it was." Ron insisted.

"You aren't feeling well, Ron, you must be seeing things."

"Since when do stomachaches induce hallucinations?" Ron retorted. Hermione rolled her eyes. Just then Harry's spoon went clattering to the floor.

"Oops, silly me." He mumbled, bending to retrieve it. He scooped up the note with the spoon and slid it into the pocket of his robes before straightening to face his friends. Hermione wasn't paying any attention to him, but Ron was eyeing him in mild suspicion.

Harry finished his breakfast in record time. "Well, he said pushing back his plate. "I have a bit of homework to finish up for professor Binns. Ron, you wanna head out to the pitch after and show me that new move?"

"Alright," Ron replied rather sulkily. Without further excuses Harry strode swiftly from the Hall, waiting until he'd rounded the corner into an empty corridor on the way to Gryffindor Tower before fishing the note from his pocket.

His heart hammered in his chest and he actually smelled the paper before unfolding it with shaking fingers.

 _Meet me in the abandoned observation tower tonight after everyone's gone to bed._

It was signed in vivid scarlet lipstick in the exact impression of Saryn's full cupid's bow lips. Harry smiled to himself and felt his cheeks flush, recalling the electric sensation of those red lips brushing his own.

***

"Draco, dearest, it really is quite late." Draco mocked under his breath as he threw himself on his bed like a pouting toddler. Every night for the past week it had been the same; Saryn had shooed him away with only a kiss on the cheek and no explanation other than the late hour. Draco was becoming increasingly impatient. She didn't object to hanging on his arm all day or dragging him about as if on a leash until nightfall, when they might be able to find some intimate time together in her conveniently private room. But no, as soon as the dormitories grew quiet he was expelled with promises to meet for breakfast or after to walk to class together. _Of course...she needs me to carry her books._

Draco opened the trunk at the foot of his bed. And gazed frustratedly at the still corked wine bottle there and the unlit mood candles. The necklace his father had sent had been returned to his shirt pocket where he felt it safest. It wasn't that Draco was losing interest, despite her behaviour. It was quite the opposite. The fact that she didn't simper and fawn like most girls had caused something to grow in Draco that he never thought he'd feel for a potential romantic conquest: respect. And because of that he would have remained persistent even if his father hadn't lain such expectations on him. But his father had. And because he had Draco felt more urgency was needed than might be wise in this situation. Everyday Draco expected an owl from him demanding a progress report. When he learned Draco had yet to reach second base he would be very put out. But then, his father wouldn't learn that...because Draco would never admit it to him.

Draco took hold of the wine bottle and had half a mind to open it. Getting exceptionally drunk seemed like a very good idea.

Did Saryn think they were still in grammar school passing notes and holding hands in private? Hell, even in grammar school he'd done much more than that. He threw the bottle back in the trunk and slammed it closed, waking one of his trollish roommates.

"Go back to sleep Goyle." No sooner had the command passed his lips than did Goyle's gurgling snores resume.

Just how long did she think he'd tolerate her coldness to his advances? Well he refused to be a lap dog any longer! he promised himself, slamming his fist into his open palm. He was going to go right this instant, waking her from her beauty sleep if need be, and demand to know where he stood.

He strode resolutely down the hall of the girl's dormitories coming to a tentative halt before Saryn's door. This was it. It was now or never. With a deep breath and a determined nod, he stepped confidently forward and raised his fist to knock, but before his knuckles came in contact with the wood his toe hit the door and it swung open. The room was dark within.

"Saryn," he whispered urgently. But there was no answer. He fished for his wand.

 _"Lumos"_

A pale blue light erupted from the end of his wand and illuminated the room. There was her bed, still made, and elsewhere there was no sign of her, and in the small room there was really nowhere for her to hide. A noise behind him made him instinctively extinguish his wand and turn. He crept toward the common room. In the dim illumination of the dying fire Draco spied movement near the secret passage. _Someone was sneaking out._ And Draco had a sneaking suspicion he knew who it was.

Before the stones concealing the passage rematerialized, Draco was through them, leaping to the nearby shadows as the midnight marauder only yards from him stopped and seemed to be listening intently for the sound of pursuit. Of course, this was not Draco's first past curfew venture, and he was amazingly adept at not getting caught...at least when those he stalked did not possess psychic abilities. After a moment, however, she continued hurriedly on her way with Draco on her heels.

She lead him to an abandoned observatory tower, one of a handful, which Draco recognized to be Snogger's Peek. It was once a favorite site for clandestine rendezvous by hormonal couples, but because of tight patrolling once upon a time it had been abandoned for safer hideaways. However, apparently confident in their past success, security was once again lax.

At the top of the tower steps before the observatory doors, Draco's guide stopped and after a quick glance at the shadows, pulled off her cloak and shook out her luxurious red waves. Once primped, she gave a soft rap in a sort of code and the handle turned with a creek.

"Whoever it is," Draco thought, "I'll slaughter him. I'll find the most wretched curse in existence and blast him into incurable and eternal misery. By God, he'd better be at least as handsome as me, if not as rich."

As Draco was imagining several fates worse than death, the door swung open revealing...

 _Harry Potter._

Harry Potter was smiling broadly and wrapping _his_ , Draco's, girlfriend in a warm embrace. Harry Potter was _kissing_ her! Draco almost lost his balance, but caught himself before stumbling from the concealing shadows into the candlelight spilling from the open door. Half a dozen candles burned within on a table beside two bottles of pumpkin juice.

As Draco stared dumbfounded, the door closed, leaving him alone in the dark hall.

Of all people...And he was serving her pumpkin juice for Merlin's sake! By god, Draco had Merlot in his dorm and a small fortune in his pocket and she's with St. Potter in Snogger's Peek sucking down pumpkin juice?!

His hatred for the boy boiled to new heights.

 _Well, he's not going to get away with this._

He wouldn't curse Potter, Draco decided. He wouldn't even confront them. He'd do something worse...he'd win Saryn away from Harry. He need only be more aggressive. Time to make _her_ respect _him_. And come Christmas he and Saryn would be curled together wearing nothing but tinsel in front of the fireplace in Malfoy Manor.


End file.
